The Interfector
by InterfectorFangirl
Summary: Really nsfw story with lots of sex (later in the storyline) based on a few of my fave tumblr roleplayers. Basically an AU where Clara dies in the time vortex, and then the doctor becomes evil. very very dark, lots of rape, violence and blood. So sorry.


It was a night, like any other. The sun had set, the few minutes of light not wasted. It was Christmas, but not a holiday, rather, the town had been named Christmas. It was unusually calm, the daleks were retreating, and the cybermen nowhere to be seen. The sky was black with the silhouettes of thousands of ships, each one belonging to its own species. But it was too calm. There hadn't been a normal day on Trenzalore in over a hundred years.

A man stepped out of the tower. The only tower in Christmas, the source of the truth field over the town he swore to protect. His instincts told him something was coming.

_But what?_

He walked further, almost involuntarily. Something felt wrong. So wrong. He kept walking, towards the town square. The town was empty, the people hiding in their houses, afraid of the unknown. An overpowering sense of dread came over the lone man, but he kept walking.

Behind a curtain, a small boy, Aestha, stood shaking. He felt the evil washing over him, overwhelming him. He saw is idol, a man of infinite kindness. He watched as a light appeared in front of him, a dark shape appearing. The man took a step back. The man with no fear took a step back. Aestha ran out, he wanted to help.

In the dark of the night, the man known as the Doctor stepped back. Before him stood his TARDIS. Perfectly normal, except for one thing. Clara, who had sent away the day before, stood there, clasping the outside of the box. Her knuckles were white, and she was barely breathing. Her right arm dropped to her side, a key falling to the ground. She turned around.

Her face was white, she stopped breathing. She fell towards him, and he rushed to grab her.

_Please be ok._

In his mind, he knew he was too late. He held her up, looking into her eyes as her body crumbled away into nothing. She was dead, and there was nothing he could do. He had loved her, more than anything. The love of his life was gone. His only true love, and she never knew. She would never know.

_Clara. My impossible girl. I… love you._

For the first time in his life, he cried. He completely broke down. In that moment, something inside him snapped. Not his hearts. They had been broken beyond repair over the past thousand years. But perhaps that played a part. That night, he forgot who he was. The Doctor. The name was a promise.

_Never crude or cowardly._

Why did he ever become that man? It wasn't him. It was never him. He had killed so many, and used so many more. He was a liar, he had always been this way. It merely took him a thousand years of pain to figure that out. He was furious. His sanity was all but gone, and he wanted to lash out.

Aestha watched from a distance as his idol cried into the snow. He knew his pain, his parents had died in front of him. He took a step towards him. The man stood up. He wasn't crying any more.

He was overwhelmed by dread as the man turned towards him, his face completely calm. He couldn't scream, he stood there as the man walked towards him, until he was looming over him. He felt fingers clamp tightly around his throat. Only then did he try to scream. But it was too late.

The nameless man started to lift the child off the ground, pulling back his clenched fist. He watched as Aestha struggled. A child who looked up to him as a father figure, in absence of one of his own, a boy who had saved his life once. And he smiled.

He punched him, right in the face. His hand stung, but the feeling of letting everything out, the pent up hate and the years of anguish, drove him on. He hit him again. Over and over. The boy's blood splattered his clothes, as he watched the child try, unsuccessfully, to call for help.

The next punch knocked him out. He dropped him on the ground, and beat him with both hands until he was dead. He stood up, pleased with what he had done. He felt no remorse, no regret. He smiled, straightening his jacket, ignoring the blood on his hands.

But he needed a new name. He couldn't be the doctor anymore, he hated being the doctor. That man was dead. He never existed and never will. From now on, he decided, he would call himself

_The Interfetor._


End file.
